2 Signing the contract

Meet Enrique Blackburn

Birthdate: 1 April

Star sign: Aries

Age: 23

Hair color: Blonde

Eye color: Hetrocromia (blue and hazel)

Favorite color: Red

Height: 189 cm

Warning!! There’s a small scene describing his mother's murder that might be disturbing to sensitive readers!

***POV - Enrique Blackburn

With an irritated flick of my hand, I close the laptop on the coffee table while simultaneously getting up from the brown leather sofa. The large windows overlook the ocean, but I don’t even take in the scenery, my mind on the freaking girl in my shower – that I wouldn’t mind joining … actually!

Thud! Thud!

The side of my fist collides with the glass, but not hard enough to break it, just a motion to try and calm myself down a little. What the hell did I get myself into?

I’ve just met my so-called girlfriend and she’s already fucking with my mind and my life. That’s why I never date for too long – women are just too complicated and irrational. I would even go as far as saying that they are irritating all the time except maybe when you’re fucking them. Well, some can even be irritating in that situation.

And now I have a girl … eh two girls living with me in my house – a place where no female even stepped over the threshold – except for Mel and Kiara that is. Oh, and Aunt Betty, the lady that cleans up the place.

I try to rather think about the positive parts of this whole fucked-up idea – I’m helping a little girl to get better and I’m going to get the leading role I want. But at what price?

I think about the contract, and how it’s going to change my life as well as my image forever. Can I really handle this? Or is the payment going to be just too much for me to bear?

Am I willing to pay with my sanity for my career? I know I’m not as broken as Jackson, but I’m still badly damaged. Seeing your mother’s mutilated body would scar any normal kid and, like millions of times before, I wish I could burn that night from my mind, but instead, I remember it like it was yesterday.

We stumbled onto the porch steps, laughing and joking like usual, each of us holding a pizza box.

“Shush!” Mel held her finger up to her lips. “Mom's car is here and we’re already grounded.” We were nearly always grounded.

Nevertheless, we’ve all slipped out to go skateboarding and get some food, thinking mom would be at the tennis club till late like usual. Ug, we’re definitely busted.

Logan opened the door extra quietly, peeking his head inside, turning it in all directions before opening it all the way. I rushed past him, trying to get to my room before mom can appear from wherever. But then Jackson froze right in front of me and the box in his hands fell to the floor. I bumped into his back, causing my pizza to slam against his body fumbling the container.

“What the hell?” I softly grumbled so as not to alert our arrival. The next moment my pizza also landed on the floor and Jackson ran towards the closest container to empty his stomach contents into it. Ilkay’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, while Logan grabbed my arm but neither of them seemed to even be aware of their actions. No, we’re all staring, fixed on the scene before us. The house was so quiet I swear you could hear the proverbial pin drop.

The whole room was a mess like you would see on TV when some crook thrashed a place looking for stuff. Yep, it looked exactly like that. Furniture was strewn around, broken glass everywhere, and a few dark red spots on the white tiles leading down the hall to the kitchen.

This is what caused Jackson to throw up – he unknowingly stepped into one of the wine-red puddles. He sat on the floor, removing his bloody sneakers with a frenzy of shaken movements.

One blue high-heeled shoe looked lost and out of place in the middle of the corridor. Ilkay told us to stay put and started following the bloody trail. Logan grabbed onto our pale sister while I tread on the heels of my older brother. I’ve never listened to Ilkay and I wasn’t about to start then.

I heard Ilkay’s gasp first, then my eyes focused and my brain took in exactly what it was looking at. The walls and cupboards, even the ceiling, were sprayed with blood, the color ranging between crimson and burgundy. A metallic stench mixed with the smell of mom’s bolognese sauce, which was spilled all over the kitchen table. I tried not to retch at the smell. Even up to today I've never eaten Spaghetti Bolognese again.

My eyes slowly traveled down the bloodstained counters towards the floor where they settled on the huge thick pool of blood. My mother’s naked pale-yellowish body was stretched out in a prone position in the center of the pool.

I immediately knew she was dead and I fell forward onto my knees while biting my fist. I closed my eyes, hoping this was not real.

The only thing that went through my mind was the argument we had just that morning. She grounded us and the last words I ever shouted to her was to leave me alone.

‘I love you!’ - her very last words to me – words that would haunt me forever.

“Enrique!” Ilkay shouted at me, getting me out of my trans. I noticed Jackson holding my mom’s hand, luckily hiding most of her body from my view – I can’t face her. His socks were drenched in her blood, but he didn’t seem to care and he didn’t throw up, his emotionless face just staring at our mom’s corpse.

I looked down, and only then did I grasp that I was kneeling in my mom’s drained blood now covering my jeans as if it’s shouting out regret, to remind me that all of this was my fault. I’m the one that suggested we sneak out because I was still mad at our mother. If we stayed in the house she would not be dead. We could have saved her.

“Let’s go.” Ilkay grabbed my arm and lead us outside where Mel and Logan were waiting.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore and vomited in the garden. Not getting hold of our father, Ilkay phoned Uncle John and he took us to his house after the cops and ambulances arrived.

That night I had my first nightmare, dreams that I would get used to over the years. It’s also when I realized that I don’t deserve to be loved. So I closed my heart and put up my shields.

Little beads of sweat trickle down my face and I wipe it away with my hand. Now is not the time to dwell on this, I have to figure this contract shit out first - this new path I was forced onto.

The thing is, my bad-boy, fuck-them-and-leave-them persona is the biggest part of my shield, the image I’m hiding behind as not to face my fears. I’ve deeply buried my heart and feelings and poured concrete over it, vowing to keep it covered. I don’t deserve to ever hear the words ‘I love you’ and I can’t say them out loud.

And I’ve done a pretty good job of showing the whole world through my actions that I don’t have a heart, that I don’t feel a fuck. And I pretty much want to keep it that way.

But now, because of this piece of paper we’re going to sign, I’m forced to act the opposite of what I’ve always done, I have to act in love. So I’m scared that people are going to start digging where they’re not supposed to and I can’t have that.

The moment she walked through the door I knew she was going to be trouble – and not just with a capital T – all CAPITAL letters. Not only was she probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but her whole endeavor screamed loudly out in my mind.

I was not expecting her to look like that, I mean, we’ve Skyped once but her hair was hidden under a towel and her face was covered in some kind of mask. I wasn’t attracted to her at all and that was one of the reasons I was prepared to offer her the contract. And here she shows up, looking like a freaking fallen fairy in probably the sexiest outfit ever. Ok, it’s only jeans, a short top showing off her perfect tummy, and a jacket, but nonetheless. I instantly needed to shift my stance a little due to the sudden tightness of my pants.

Aria – I say the name in my head a few times. I mean, I should fix it in my mind, don’t want to have a forget-her-name slip in public.

Soft laughter echos through the house and bumps from wall to wall, like a blind stranger looking for the right path, and then it ghosts through me, leaving a little drop of warmth behind in my chest. I sneak towards the half-open door like a thief in the night, not wanting to intrude and stop the sunny sounds.

I lean against the doorway, just staring at the little girl on the bed. A soft light illuminates the newly decorated room with a color scheme of soft pinks and greens, pink being Leyla’s favorite color. Mel painted a huge mural of a realistic fairytale forest scene, complete with a unicorn, fairies, and other cute creatures on one wall. I must admit, it turned out pretty awesome and Leyla flipped when she saw it.

“Pascal is my favorite.” It takes me a while to realize she stopped laughing and is in fact talking to me. She points at the TV where a green chameleon is pulling funny faces. Then she pats the bed with her hand and I sit down.

“I’m glad my sister found you, Enrique Blackburn,” she gives me a little smile and I swear that’s what an angel must look like.

“Now she can be happy for once. She’s been crying a LOT.” For some reason, I don’t like the idea of Aria being sad.

A little ungirly snort draws my attention and Leyla’s concentrating on the television again.

A white horse fights with a guy over some bag and the horse’s expressions are just hilarious. Leyla giggles again and the sound puts a smile on my face.

“I love the horse,” I say, feeling awkward next to this child.

Leyla looks at me pouting her mouth.

“Yeh, you would. His name is Maximus. He’s like you - acts tough, but is a real softy underneath.”

I wonder for a moment if she can see into the shadows of my mind, but before I can ask Aria appears with towel-dry hair in super-short red pants and a black t-shirt and I’ve never seen anything so sexy in my life. Scratch the previous outfit, this one is now number one in my books. This girl is fucking beautiful, that’s for sure.

Her plump lips part and I have to hold myself back not to grab her and get a little taste of that perfect mouth. I may not have a heart, but I am still a man.

“Tangled again?” she asks her sister, oblivious of my inappropriate thoughts, and receives a big smile as her answer.

“Do you want something to drink before we start?” I ask, getting up from the bed a little too quick.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee.” She pleads, holding her hands together as if she’s praying. How can she be so comfortable? I feel as if I can’t breathe.

I walk behind her to the kitchen. Her hips sway sensually with each step and I take a deep frustrated breath. I’m mantsy as hell.

Get a grip on those hormones, Blackburn! I pep talk myself out of my daze and notice her eyes moving over my body before she plops down on one of the red high chairs standing in a row at the breakfast nook.

I’ll have to think out some strategy to get the sex thoughts out of my head else I’ll be walking with a hardon all the time. Maybe we should include sexual rights in the contract, I mean … she must have needs too.

I turn my back towards her and focus on the red Nespresso, putting a pod inside and pressing the button. Almost immediately the coffee starts pouring into the cup. Think, Blackburn! I have to think about her flaws … stuff that would put me off … disgusting features that would make me not want to screw her … I smile, proud of the plan. But now, we first have to settle the contract.

“Rule one – you will pretend to be my girlfriend and I will pay for all Leyla’s medical and other expenses until she recovers. Do you agree with it so far?” I turn around and hand her the steaming cup of cappuccino.

“Yes, but remember we’ve agreed that the money is only a loan, I’ll work and pay you back.” I put another capsule in the machine.

“It’s not necessary, but we won’t fight about that … ok, rule 2, after ending this contract a grace period of two months must elapse before either party may officially date again. Just so nobody gets suspicious.” I turn again to look at her and she shrugs her shoulders, nodding her head as confirmation.

“Great, next one, both parties will act as if deeply in love whenever somebody is around.” She doesn’t interrupt so I take it as a ‘yes’.

“Also, you may not do anything embarrassing in public, no arguing, no fighting, no tantrums, and no other improper behavior of any kind. I know about the airport scene, but we’ll talk about that later. Do you want to add something?”

“Yes, you may not humiliate me for any reason.” She looks me straight in the eye, her gaze not faltering.

“Why do you assume I would?”

“You seem like a cold and heartless person.” Her gaze is still unrelenting challenging me. I pout. She’s right but why do her words hurt more than they should.

“No, problem, I can do that. Rule 5, you will be provided with a proper wardrobe, shoes, and accessories, so always make sure you look presentable when you leave the complex. I will have the last say on your outfits. My girlfriend will look sexy but never slutty.”

Her green eyes change into small fires and she takes a deep breath and bites her lip as if to calm herself. Damn, she looks so darn cute and hot at the same time and I can’t hide my smile. This seems to piss her off even more.

“Slutty sounds like a YOU problem,” she hisses blowing some steam from her cup and suddenly railing her up becomes my most favorite thing to do. “And I won’t let you dictate what I wear. But don’t worry, I have some fashion sense at least. I was actually on my way to becoming a fashion designer before Leyla got sick,” Thinking back at the outfit she was wearing previously, I’m not gonna argue.

“Let’s not dwell on namecalling, fairyfly. You can choose the clothes, but I will tell you when I think you’re dressed inappropriately. Can we go on to the next one?” I increase my smile, hoping to irritate her more. It does, but she keeps her cool, her eyes the only thing to reveal her true emotions.

“Super, next, you will be available whenever I need you, and where ever I need you. Anything you want to add here?”

“Yes.” I roll my eyes and now it’s my turn to sigh.

“I’ll be available, but Leyla comes first. If she needs me you won’t insist and drag me away from her.” I frown, does she really think I’m that much of a monster?

“Agreed, when Leyla is sick, in the hospital, or having tests done, you will be by her side, and I’ve already arranged the best possible babysitters for her when you need to accompany me. Okay?” I can see I surprised her. Get used to it baby.

“Okay … please continue.” The fires in her eyes change to a feeling I’m not capable to understand. Feeling a bit uncomfortable I start playing with my empty cup.

“Where are we … oh yes, rule 7, you will stay here for the duration of the contract and I will give you a credit card to buy everything and anything you and Leyla need. You will also use it to buy groceries and so on.”

“I agree to buy what you need, but I will find a job and buy my own personal stuff. I don’t want your money for anything else than Leyla’s medical expenses. And this is not debatable.” Stubborn freaking girl.

“And where will you find time to do this job?” I look down into that pretty little face, trying to make notes of any imperfections, like her slightly crooked mouth, the muddy brown spots in her eyes, the uneven dimples in her cheeks, and the soft freckles on her nose. Why doesn’t it turn me off, but instead make me even want her more? She looks back and for a while, we have another stare-down contest.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to long hours, I’ll make time. I can waitress somewhere as I’ve done before.” Over my dead body is my girlfriend going to waitress at some cheap coffee shop or overcrowded bar. Then a bright idea hits me.

“Ok, you can work at the club.” Hesitation runs over her face.

“No special treatment or anything like that,” she says, her eyes a bit weary.

“You’ll get the same salary as the other workers,” I lie for the sake of peace.

“I accept, you can go on to the next clause.” She breaks our eye connection and I walk up to the window and stare out at the ocean. It’s windy today and the waves run unpleasantly onto the beach, giving the scene a somber atmosphere.

I love the ocean; its unpredictability, its stormy wild waves crashing ferociously against the rocks, over and over again, as if it can’t get rid of its anger and frustration. It’s how I feel deep inside, uncontrollable, as if I’m slowly drowning, just to wake up and drown all over again. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. What would I not give for one day of peace and calmness, a day without waves - tranquility, happiness?

“Enrique, are you alright?” She’s standing right behind me. “I mean, you don’t look too good … not that you look bad, cause you don’t … look bad that is … you’re kinda hot … yah, neh … that’s if you were my type … which your not …“

She gets flustered and stops talking, her cheeks flooding red and her eyes looking down to the ground. She knocks her temple a few times with her fist, probably reprimanding herself, but I loved the whole scenario. This girl is way different from the ones I usually hang out with - but in a good way.

“Yes, I was just a bit lost in the view.” And I’m not talking about the one outside, more like the one right in front of me.

“It’s amazing. I love the ocean.” My now girlfriend is standing right beside me, her face shining with awe, her hand on my arm. I notice the porcelain skin, and the fullness of her lips, and my dick decides to make a move. Fuck, suddenly I wish she looked more like Noah, you know large and big-boned. Flaws, find the flaws. Ok, her legs are too short … well, obviously since she barely reaches my shoulder. Her hips … fuck … the only thing I can find wrong with her hips is that they are not linked to mine.

I clear my throat, “Let’s finish this … I guess you don’t have another boyfriend I have to worry about?” This is not part of the contract, but I suddenly just felt like finding out. I mean, I don’t want some random guy to sucker punch me in the street or something.

“Nope, but while we’re at this point, I would like to add another rule to this contract. Rule 8, no flirting, kissing, or any sexual encounters with other people for the duration of this fake relationship. I don’t want to be the girl that gets pitied by everybody because her playboy boyfriend can’t keep his dick in his pants. After all this, I need to go away from here with at least my dignity still intact.”

Wow. I’m dumbstruck. Although I’m not the sex-manic everybody thinks me to be, a few months of celibacy is also not my forte. But I understand her point and damn if I’m going to let her be with another man for that matter. Just thinking about it revs up my anger.

“It’s not that I care where you choose to stick your dick in … well, I do care … that is for while we’re dating … not that we’re dating-dating … but still, everybody thinks we’re dating-dating … ug … you know what I mean.”

“Ok, I accept. But I must warn you not to fall in love with me,” I lean forward and can’t help the big smile on my face. Fuck this girl is cute. But I can’t have her catch feelings I won’t be able to reciprocate.

“No problem there, but the same goes for you then,” she says, her eyes holding mine. It’s the first time ever a girl doesn’t swoon over me, hell, she doesn’t even seem to be slightly impressed at all. It bothers me more than I want to admit.

“Can’t fall in love when you don’t have a heart.”

“Great, but you’ll keep your word on not cheating?” I make a cross-my-heart motion.

I don’t think she totally believes me, and her next words confirm this suspicion.

“And just to make things a little more interesting, let's put in clause 9 stating that in case any of the above rules are violated, the guilty party may receive some kind of punishment from the other party.”

I like this, I like it a lot. And I’m already thinking of great ways to pleasurably discipline her and a sly smile forms on my lips. She rolls her eyes and points her index finger at me, the tip just touching my chest.

“Scratch those dirty thoughts, playboy, these punishments may not include physical abuse, public humiliation, or sexual favors.”

“Thanks for taking the fun out of it.” I snort disappointed, but I’m still going to deliberately make her break the rules, just to have some fun disciplining her.

“So, let's get to point 10, the last point will be that this contract will stay between you and me, and no talking to the press or anybody about personal or sensitive information.” She agrees.

“And while we’re at this point, what happened at the airport? Are you out looking for fame?”

Dean called while she was in the shower, telling me that my new girlfriend already made the headlines due to some or another incident at the airport. I am a bit disappointed that she was just like the rest, a fame-seeker. I mean, why else would she tell everybody that she’s my girlfriend?

She moves a step closer and we get caught in yet another face down. This time I can see she’s eagerly pissed off.

“Fame?” We are eyeball-to-eyeball. Her face seems flushed and her hands clenched in tight fists.

“So you think I would coax my little sister to go around telling people that I’m your girlfriend just to get in the spotlight? Are you serious right now?”

Leyla told the people? Ok, I might have been a bit judgemental, being used to girls that only want fame and fortune. Shit.

“Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know Leyla was the one that told everybody.” I put my hand on her shoulder but she shakes it off. I blink twice, knowing I was wrong, and regret spills over me in warm layers.

“So you thought I told people … to get attention? Unfuckingbelievable! Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not in this for the fame or the fortune, I’m only doing it for my sister cause I don’t have any other fucking choice! So next time, make sure of your facts beforehand,” she snaps, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“And you made me swear … shit! On the contrary, I hated what happened at the airport. I don’t like people invading my privacy,” she freezes for a moment and stares into space, clearly thinking of something, and then her eyes meet mine again.

“You know, if your personality was just half the goodness of your looks, you would be almost a perfect man … now your just a handsome prick.”

“So you think I’m handsome?” My new hobby, remember – teasing Aria.

“Ug …”

“Ok, ok, I’ll leave it at that. Does the contract fit the bill?”

“Yes, I’m satisfied.”

“Great, I’ll print it so we can sign it.”

“I’ll check on Leyla,” she says walking away, me staring at that perfect ass, and it feels as if I’m suffocating. What am I going to do? My brothers are like fucking praying mantises, feeding off the slightest hint of insecurity. The worst thing to do in this scenario is to show uncertainty about my feelings for Aria. So I have to stay cool even if I feel like I’m stuck on the spinning cycle of a washing machine.

Looking through the window again, I push the bottom part of my palm hard against my brow. Please let this work, please, please, please … I’m not sure if it’s a prayer or a chant.